


Beats Per Minute

by i_feel_electric



Category: Big Bang (Band), GTOP - Fandom, K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, First Time, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Smut, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 10:46:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_feel_electric/pseuds/i_feel_electric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>18 year old Jiyong and Seunghyun get plastered on a bottle of Peach Schnapps and orange juice, and proceed to resolve the sexual tension that's been building between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beats Per Minute

The house was dark when I arrived. And quiet. Save for the faint strains of music floating down from the second floor. I smiled, letting myself in through the front door. Jiyong probably hadn't left his bedroom since he got home from school earlier that afternoon. He was always listening to some new, rare record he'd imported from overseas. Something weird. Something he could get high and dance to or let envelop him in waves of sound as he sprawled out on the floor and stared at the ceiling for hours. Most of the time I was laying there next to him, our heads positioned close together so we could still talk without ruining the moment. Once, Jiyong had flopped down on the carpet and let his head rest on my stomach. Benny Goodman had been spewing from the speakers, I remembered that much, but the rest of the details escaped me because my universe had narrowed to the heat of his cheek seeping into my skin through the thin layer of my t-shirt. To the way his shaggy, blonde hair had framed his face and his graceful fingers had tapped against his chest in time with the music.

 

Sighing, I rubbed the back of my neck and climbed the stairs. Jiyong's parents were out of town for the weekend, his sister Dami probably somewhere partying with friends. Which meant it was just me and him tonight. The thought inspired a swelling of warm panic that hummed in my chest as I walked down the hall, feet carrying me toward the slivers of light spilling from the cracks in his bedroom door. I could make out the song now, some soaring, progressive house track that Jiyong had most likely been listening to on repeat for the last half hour. He was singing along. I inhaled, slowly, and knocked.

 

The singing stopped. The door swung open. When he saw me, Jiyong's head tilted to the side and his lips spread into a huge grin, eyes fond and crinkled at the corners.

 

“Hey, Seunghyun.”

 

It was a little like staring into the sun, if the sun had a thing for wearing cut-off jeans and flimsy tank tops and drew adorable monsters on its arm with a ball-point pen. I reached out and ruffled the mop of hair on his head.

 

“You've been productive.”

 

“I was waiting for you, what else was I gonna do?”

 

“I dunno, we have like, four papers to write this week.”

 

“Fuck that, it's Friday. I wanna roll a joint and dance and– Oh! Shit, I almost forgot. I got this killer LP in the mail today...” Jiyong vibrated with barely contained excitement as he spoke, rambling about album art and vinyl quality and the new needle he'd just acquired for his record player.

 

I was only half-listening, too distracted by the movement of his hands and the way his eyebrows kept disappearing into his bangs. Watching Jiyong talk about the things he loved was sort of addicting. Hypnotic. Even if you didn't know what the hell he was saying, you got excited by proxy. It was infectious. Honestly, I could listen to him talk about music forever. It didn't hurt that his voice went all low and lazy when he was high either, tongue loose and easy and nimble. Jiyong would dissect song lyrics and explain his theories on audio frequencies and most of it went right over my head, but it was easily one of the hottest things ever. Not that I needed any more reasons to be drawn to him. Two years and I was still following him around like a lost fucking puppy.

 

“So what's the booze situation?” I asked, desperate to get away from my own thoughts as I sat down on the floor and leaned against the edge of his bed.

 

“Pathetic.” Ji snorted, shutting the door. “Dami snagged us a bottle of peach schnapps from work, but it cost me.”

 

Shrugging off my hoodie, I smirked as I dug around in one of the pockets, fishing out a small plastic bag.

 

“What's she making you do this time?”

 

“Laundry for a month.”

 

He shuffled across the carpet to his desk on bare feet, opening said bottle and pouring the sweet liquor into two plastic cups. My gaze snagged on the flash of ribs exposed at his side, on the tightness of his jeans when my eyes drifted. I bit my lip and forced myself to look down at my hands.

 

“It could be a lot worse, Ji,” I murmured, retrieving the carefully rolled joint that I'd prepared before coming over.

 

“Yeah, I know.” Jiyong sighed. “I've got orange juice to mix if you want it.”

 

“Sure. Whatever.”

 

Nothing was going to make the fruity concoction taste any more pleasant anyway. Besides, we'd be stoned as fuck in a few minutes and it wouldn't matter anymore. Jiyong pushed a cup into my hand and then slouched on the ground next to me, head lolling back and forth against the bed frame. The song changed and more pounding bass beats reverberated in my ears, layers and layers of synthesized sound building up to a crescendo before the drop. It was all the same.

 

“You really like this shit?” I glanced over at him, mouth twitching despite myself. He laughed.

 

“It's not shit if it makes me happy, you asshole.” Jiyong took a big gulp of his drink and eyed me critically from underneath his angelic, blonde fringe. “Y'know, for such a hip-hop snob, I figured you'd understand the appeal.”

 

“Speaking of which...” I tossed him a sly grin, setting my cup down and handing over the joint as I crawled to the stereo.

 

There was so much music in so many different forms, if Jiyong hadn't been such an anal retentive neat freak it would be virtually impossible to find anything in less than a day. But I knew my way around his collection and I found the CD case I was searching for without even having to think about it. I sensed Jiyong's calculating eyes burning a hole in my head. He'd probably already guessed what I was going to play but I liked that. Familiarity wasn't something I shared with many people.

 

Sliding the disc from its protective sleeve, I fed it into the stereo and pressed play, turning up the volume several notches. I'd settled back in my spot against the bed when the music kicked in.

 

“Ugh, you're so fucking  _predictable._ ” Jiyong emitted a chuckle-laced groan and shoved me in the arm.

 

I stared down at him, affectionate smile splitting my face in two. He rolled his eyes but he was still laughing, the pleasant noise causing a tendril of giddiness to wrap around my heart. I sniffed and cleared my throat.

 

“Is this the part where I reveal my secret lifelong obsession with Country-Western just to prove you wrong?”

 

“No, but now I actually kind of wanna listen to Johnny Cash,” Jiyong muttered, rolling over onto his hands and knees but I hooked a finger in one of his empty belt loops and tugged until he fell awkwardly into my legs with a squawk.

 

“Fuck you, we're listening to this whole album.” I poked him in the stomach. “No one turns off Quest. Show some respect.”

 

Narrowing his eyes, Jiyong smushed a palm against the side of my face and scoffed, my garbled protests falling on deaf ears as he sat up and tucked the joint between his teeth. He produced a lighter seemingly out of thin air and lit it, taking a deep drag and holding it in. I observed with rapt attention as a thick, curling cloud of smoke crept from his full lips when he exhaled.  _Shit._  Dragging fingers through my hair, I looked anywhere but at him, focusing on the rhymes flowing from the speakers instead of the way my skin prickled. That shouldn't have been so sexy but oh god it  _was_. And I immediately felt silly for thinking so.

 

“Seunghyun.” Ji nudged my knee with his and I snapped my head up to face him.

 

He was holding out the joint, had it pinched between his thumb and forefinger as he raised an eyebrow. My mouth quirked automatically in response and I reached over. Jiyong's knuckles pressed against my palm and I prayed that the music was too loud for him to hear my soft intake of breath.

 

“Thanks,” I mumbled, taking a hit.

 

Downing the rest of his drink, Jiyong fell backward onto the carpet. My foot was digging into his hip and if he cared he didn't make it known. If anything, he shifted closer, letting his arms flop back over his head. His small frame was stretched out before me; the whole of what I desired on display. Did Jiyong even know how much of a walking temptation he was? Smart, beautiful, talented, sweet. Kind of eccentric and sometimes a little awkward. I took another hit and closed my eyes, relishing the gentle buzz running through my body. He was idiotic and adorable and I liked him more than I'd liked anyone in my entire life. But how was I supposed to tell him that?

 

The seconds ticked by and the rhymes kept flowing and all of the muscles in my body uncoiled, like they were letting out a big, collective sigh of  _yes._  I extended my arm to Ji without looking and when he took the joint this time, he slid his fingers along my wrist and over my hand. I froze, lips parting on their own in silent shock.

 

_Seunghyun, he's stoned. You know he gets sloppy._

 

I dropped my arm and finished the disgusting mix of peach schnapps and orange juice in a single gulp. Then I rose from the floor to pour myself another one. Also to put distance between us. I was too warm and he was too...too  _there._  Taunting me with his existence.

 

“You want any more of this?” He called and I glanced at him over my shoulder.

 

Jiyong had turned onto his side, the curve of his hip more pronounced, and I caught a small flash of his stomach peeking out from where his tank top had bunched up.  _Jesus christ, why._

 

“I'm good for now.” I shook my head, concentrating on the alcohol. “I've got another one here somewhere, anyway.”

 

“Always so prepared,” he said, the usual snark in his voice mellowed by the pot.

 

“I do my best.”

 

“No, you spoil me rotten is what you do.”

 

It was uttered quietly and he probably hadn't meant to say it out loud, but his voice was so soft and verging on tender that it made me nervous. More nervous. Whatever.

 

“Ji, what the fuck are you talking about?” I asked, laughing unsteadily as I gripped my cup a little tighter and leaned back against the edge of the desk.

 

“Nevermind.” He groaned and stretched, one hand covering his eyes. “I'm high, ignore me.”

 

And then he got more high, finishing off the rest of the joint and drumming on his thighs absently. A Tribe Called Quest eventually switched to some pretty but melancholic acoustic instrumental shit that I found myself liking more than I cared to admit. Jiyong's eclectic taste in music never failed to impress me. I emptied my cup again and sunk back down onto the floor, trying to come up with something to say to alleviate the weird tension. I wasn't used to feeling so uncomfortable around him.

 

“Are you doing anything tomorrow?”

 

“Dunno.”

 

“I was thinking about taking a drive down the coast,” I murmured, the lilting guitar demanding that I keep my voice low. “Come with me.”

 

Jiyong's answering smile caused my stomach to flutter and I squirmed when his gaze lingered. His eyes were blood-shot and hooded, long lashes bobbing as he fought the languorous pull of his high. I felt mine do the same.

 

“I'd–“ he stopped short, fidgeting with the fraying threads of his jeans and looking away. “Yeah. Okay.”

 

I swallowed the anxious lump in my throat. “Cool.”

 

The conversation ended there, our stilted words once again replaced by the rambling, dissonant pluck of guitar strings. The twang echoed off of the walls of Jiyong's room and I felt it in my chest. I wondered what he'd started to say and then thought better of. He wasn't normally tight-lipped about anything, regardless of how personal it was. At least he wasn't with me, something that had always made me feel special. I pulled my legs up, wrapping my arms around my knees, and watched him. His eyes were closed and his mouth was curved slightly as he lost himself in the gentle swell of sound. His hair, soft and silken, fanned out around his head. I hugged my knees more tightly. The desire to hold him close, to know how he fit, how his cheek felt pressed against the side of my neck...it never faded. Jiyong was a warm ocean that I wanted to dive into and then never resurface.

 

Time slowed, the moment hovering like humid air. I was lulled into a bit of a trance, the music draping itself over me until it seemed heavy and tangible. I thought maybe Jiyong had actually fallen asleep, but when the album finally finished he sighed and propped himself up on his elbows.

 

“Can I play you something?” His voice was thick and a bit raspy and the hairs on my arms rose.

 

“Of course. You don't usually ask first.”

 

Jiyong huffed, a small smile on his face and a faint blush tinting his cheeks. “This is different.”

 

With sluggish limbs he pulled himself over to the stereo, flipping through one of his CD cases. When he grabbed his headphones too, the ones that probably cost more than my monthly car payments, I frowned. Ji plugged them in and picked up the remote. He knelt in front of me, tugging my arms from their hold around my knees.

 

“Cross your legs,” he almost whispered and I did, not quite sure what was going on.

 

But then Jiyong was moving forward to sit in my lap, thighs straddling my waist, and I held my breath as terror welled up inside of me.

 

“Jiyong, what-”

 

“Quiet,” he cut me off, carefully sliding the headphones over my ears.

 

“But-”

 

Two fingers were pressed to my lips to shut me up. Soft fingers. Warm fingers. My body went rigid and I didn't know what to do with my hands so I left them where they were, planted on the floor. The scratchy carpet was making my palms itch.

 

“Just listen.”

 

And I didn't protest because the determined look in Jiyong's eyes told me there was no getting out of this. My heart was beating strangely, fast and slow then fast and slow, and I hoped I wasn't actually about to have a heart attack. He shifted and settled more comfortably while I gritted my teeth and attempted not to yell at him to get the fuck off of me. But only to save myself the embarrassment of getting a hard-on. He was too close and the weight was too good and  _please god let this be over soon._

 

Jiyong hit the play button on the remote and then set it aside, his hands returning to curl around the headphones and hold them firmly against my ears. The song began and suddenly I was surrounded by voices on every side. Female voices, or one specifically, just layered and looped and harmonized. The sound of her voice panned from left to right and back again. Strong and clear. The sound of footsteps over gravel echoed in one ear and then the other. Cymbals, synth, a steady bass beat. She sang, but the words were in Japanese and I didn't understand but that was okay. Piece by piece the threads came together and unraveled and came together once more. It was haunting and lovely and intense. Made even moreso by the fact that Jiyong had his gaze locked with mine.

 

I stared back, captivated. Disoriented. Flustered. It was almost like tripping, my world having turned painfully surreal in a matter of minutes. I breathed, or tried to. Jiyong's face was inches away, blonde fringe falling into his eyes, and the itch in my palms became the need to brush the golden strands from his forehead. The cinnamon-stick brown of his irises imprinted themselves in my mind and I knew I would never forget the way he was looking at me like he was right now. Like I was the only other human being in the universe.

 

An overwhelming heat flooded through me and my body felt impossibly light. The onslaught of noises pulsed in me and around me and I didn't know how else to describe it. To describe what I was hearing and what I was experiencing. I just gave up and let sensory overload take me. Jiyong seemed to recognize the shift and I saw his lips twitch in my periphery. The beats cut out, her voice flourished and then the music ceased altogether for the longest two seconds I'd ever endured before all the sounds came crashing down around me again. My heart stopped and started and I gasped, eyelids fluttering shut and then lifting as my chest heaved. Jiyong's expression softened, one of his hands lowering to lay flat against my sternum. I wanted to look somewhere else, to tear my gaze away and end the madness, but I couldn't.

 

Something was happening here, some kind of line being crossed. My buzz had been obliterated and replaced with an ache so intense my fingers were trembling.

 

Several minutes or several hours later the song culminated with the absence of all noise except for the back and forth of the footsteps over gravel until there was nothing. Jiyong removed the headphones from my ears, leaving them on the floor. The silence in his room was deafening but I hardly had time to acknowledge that when he was leaning closer. His hands cupped my face, tip of his nose brushing the tip of mine. The thickness of his lashes and the cinnamon rings of his eyes were all that I could see. Jiyong's fingers slid into my hair and we shared breath.

 

“I'd really like to kiss you,” I whispered, because the ache was going to kill me if I didn't.

 

But I still couldn't move, paralyzed by the reality of Jiyong in my lap. He nuzzled at my face and coated my lips with his quiet laughter.

 

“Why are you so afraid to touch me?”

 

His mouth barely grazed mine as he spoke, teasing, and my stomach dropped out.

 

“I didn't know you wanted me to.”

 

“I do. I have. For a long time,” he admitted, teasing me with more phantom kisses.

 

I had no idea what to say to that. It was also really hard to think when Jiyong kept arching closer and his lips stayed exactly where they were.

 

“Touch me, Seunghyun,” he pleaded, breathless. “Please.”

 

 _Fucking hell._ I exhaled roughly, bringing shaking hands to the dip of his waist. I cautiously molded each finger to his body, like he would dissipate into a cloud of smoke if I was too eager. Jiyong's heat soaked my skin and he gasped at the added contact. And then the millimeters that separated us were erased as I tilted my chin and captured that sweet mouth with my own. His muffled moan rumbled against my lips and my chest and he coiled his arms around me without hesitation. Everything was singing now, my heart throbbing at full volume in my ears. Jiyong's kiss was timid. Perfectly shy and inexperienced despite his show of confidence. To think that I had the upper hand in this situation was ridiculous. My fingers gripped him more firmly, thumbs rubbing at the valleys between his ribs. Jiyong made a little pleased noise in the back of this throat and I opened my mouth, gently toying at the seam of his lips with the tip of my tongue. He smiled and my heart faltered.

 

Jiyong was infinitely responsive to every touch. I could feel every hitch of his breath, every mewl, every sigh. I trailed my hands up his sides and down his back. I caressed his thighs and squeezed his ass, pulling him against me to draw out another moan. Jiyong was as intoxicating as I had imagined him to be, if not more, and I was helpless in his arms. I moved on autopilot. If I thought too much about what I was doing I would freeze and the panic would take control, because  _I was kissing my best friend_ , and he was letting me grope him like the horny teenagers that we were. Jiyong pulled me away from the bed and directed me to sink back on the floor.

 

I swept his hair from his face, fingers stroking the bridge of his nose and the curve of his cheek. He leaned into the touches, eyes closed. God, he was so beautiful.

 

“Ji,” I whispered, too afraid to speak any louder.

 

He turned his head, lips pressing to the inside of my wrist as he hummed in question. I shivered.

 

“We don't have to do anything, y'know.” I was getting nervous again, words coming thickly and without ease. “I mean–I...I'd be happy just kissing you all night.”

 

There was suddenly so much heat under my skin as I flushed in embarrassment. I wouldn't have been surprised if I took off my socks and my toes were pink. Jiyong chuckled, swooping low to nip at my mouth, his actions growing more bold. He sucked on my bottom lip and when he rocked his hips slightly all the air flew out of my lungs in a quiet groan. I was floating.

 

“Would a handjob be too much?” He murmured, amusement clear in the tone of his voice.

 

I tensed, out of alarm or nerves or what, I didn't know but all of this was happening so fast. Believe me, I wanted Jiyong in every way possible, my body was making that glaringly obvious. There wasn't a chance in hell he could miss the hardness of my cock beneath him. But if we were actually crossing that line, I wanted to savor it. He meant more to me than just a quick fuck and I was pretty sure he was aware of that.

 

“Jiyong...”

 

“ _Seunghyun_.” He lifted a brow in challenge of the protest he knew would follow. I didn't let it stop me.

 

“Just because–“

 

“But I wanna make you feel good,” Ji said softly and kissed me again.

 

I allowed myself to kiss him back for a moment, hands framing his face.

 

“You already do,” I whispered against his lips, looking directly into his too-pretty eyes.

 

Jiyong's gaze darkened and he exhaled, his expression a mixture of arousal and affection, and it was such a heady combination I wondered how I could deny him anything.

 

“Please. Let me.”

 

I grinned and cleared my throat. “I think you've said 'please' more in the last ten minutes than you have in the entire two years that I've known you.”

 

He laughed, rolling his eyes and swooping in to keep me silent with his mouth. His hips rocked again, rougher this time. Slower. And I clenched my eyes shut as I moaned. Jiyong took the opportunity to slide his tongue beyond the rows of my teeth and I sunk my fingers into his hair.

 

Things went a little hazy after that, my brain going off like blinking carnival lights as Jiyong undulated above me. My hands were underneath his tank top now, guiding the movement of his hips, relishing the smoothness of his skin. He licked and sucked at my neck and my jaw, yanking my shirt down to devote the same attention to my collarbone. Half the time I couldn't differentiate which noises were coming from him and which were coming from me, it all sort of blended together in a cacophony of messy, teenaged fumbling. Because I thought I knew what I was doing, but I didn't. Not really. I just knew that Jiyong was here and we were together and everything dwindled to the way he was making me feel. The way I was making  _him_  feel. They fed into each other and sometimes it seemed like his pleasure was mine but mostly I just lay there and wallowed.

 

Jiyong leaned back on his heels, fingers slithering over my chest and my stomach to undo my belt buckle. He was panting, lips wet and cherry-red. I reached up to drag my thumb across his mouth and he bit down on the tip, popping the button on my jeans, lowering the zipper.  _Fuck me_. I whimpered,  _whimpered_ , as he shoved my boxers lower and grasped the base of my cock. He smirked.

 

“Lucky for you I'm a lot better at  _this_  than I am at kissing.”

 

“Oh god,” I groaned, throwing an arm over my face.

 

I wouldn't have cared if he'd never seen a dick before in his life, having his hands on me was enough to send me over the edge. But the torture was only just beginning. Jiyong stroked me expertly and I almost wanted to know how many times he'd jerked off to the thought of  _my_  hands on him. This thought elicited a shudder that rolled right through me and Jiyong hummed in satisfaction. He removed my arm, pinning it above my head, and bent down to kiss my forehead. I lasted a humiliatingly short three minutes before I was twitching through orgasm, muffled, incoherent sounds melting into Jiyong's hair.

 

“Sorry,” I laughed and sighed.

 

“Shut up.” He was grinning, fingers caressing my hip. “It was hot.”

 

My laughter came back and I tried to breathe calmly but it was impossible. He stared at me for a long moment, smile toying at the corners of his mouth. I blushed. More from the reality of what we'd just done than the sweetness dancing in his eyes. Jiyong tucked me back into my boxers and I hissed. He pulled me into a sitting position and slid my shirt off, using the soiled fabric to clean up before tossing it into the middle of the room. He ran his hands along my bared skin. I still couldn't catch my breath. So I stole some of his, claiming his lips and causing him to gasp when I palmed him through his jeans. Jiyong got rid of his tank top, crashing against me, and everything turned into more messy fumbling as I returned the favor. Only it was better now because he was so warm in my arms.

 

For all my humiliation, Jiyong didn't last long either. He came, painting hot, white streaks over my hand and his stomach, whining into my ear while his hips jerked and his body trembled. He curled around me, cheek pressed to the curve of my neck, and I aligned the fingers of my other hand with the dips in his spine. Jiyong buried a smile in my shoulder and all I could think about was how he fit.  _Perfectly._  Like we'd been waiting forever to find out how just much.

 

“Tomorrow,” he said softly.

 

“What about tomorrow?”

 

“You're driving but I get to pick the tunes.”

 

I laughed, easy and low. “In what universe would that not be a constant?”

 

“Shh...” Jiyong kissed my shoulder, chuckling slightly as he pressed closer and closer while I merely fell harder and harder.

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can listen to the song Jiyong plays for Seunghyun on his headphones here: https://soundcloud.com/snouu/salyu-x-salyu-s-o-un-d-beams


End file.
